Sad Look That You Wear So Well
by Klainestuck
Summary: When the male Tribute for District Eight, Kurt Hummel, meets the male Tribue for District Seven, Blaine Anderson, on the train to the Capitol, they don't get off the the best of starts. Although, they both become fascinated with each other when i the Training Centre, even in the Arena - both of them are unware of the others interests in the other.
1. A Warning To The People

**AN: **

**This was an AU idea on my forum, aaand me and our Blaine RPer decided to put it into a fic~ I'll be writing the chapters from Kurt's POV and he'll be writing the chapters from Blaine's POV. **

**Also, there are OCs in here which aren't ours and go to the other members of the forum.**

**Yet again, sucks with summaries and this one sucks. Here's the real one from scarvesandcoffee: **

**In a dark vision of the near future, twelve boys and twelve girls are forced to appear in a live TV show called the Hunger Games. There is only one rule: kill or be killed.**

**When the male Tribute for District Eight, Kurt Hummel, meets the male Tribue for District Seven, Blaine Anderson, on the train to the Capitol, they don't get off the the best of starts. Although, they both become fascinated with each other when in the Training Centre, even in the Arena - both of them are unware of the others interests in the other.**

* * *

I wake up with a pounding headache, as the sun barely creeps through the window. It couldn't have been past seven o'clock. It didn't really matter what the time was though. I wouldn't be able to sleep through this headache, even if I wanted to. It was the same every Reaping Day. Every year was the same. My sleep would become plagued with nightmares about the Arena and I'd either wake up screaming and not fall asleep for the rest of the night, or I'd end up feeling ill in the mornings. The latter didn't happen as often, but I did prefer it. I always ended up feeling as ill as I would if I'd just slept through the nightmares. At least then I wouldn't be lying for hours, unable to do anything.

After a few minutes, the throbbing in my head subsides a little, though I can still feel it. I decide to get out of bed now, and prepare myself for the Reaping. It won't start for another few hours – until two – but it's best to just take whatever time I was conscious to prepare myself if I am the one to be chosen as Tribute. My odds weren't too good, but they were a lot higher than a few of the other boys my age. After exchanging slips for tessarae, I had twenty eight slips. It wasn't anything compared to the boys that had over fifty, but I still didn't have a lot of luck here.

I walk over to my wardrobe, and take out a simple shirt, and trousers, closing the door over. It isn't what I'll be wearing to the Reaping, but there's a chance that I'll go out to practice for a while. I can't risk my Reaping clothes being soiled, because the Peacemakers definitely won't look it over if I come to the town centre covered in dirt and grass; maybe with a few fresh holes in my clothes. And with the little grass that grows around here, the Peacemakers will know that I managed to get out of the District.

After I place my night shirt neatly back into my wardrobe, I close the door over, listening carefully to see if my father's awake yet. Though, I can hear his faint snoring coming from the room next to mine. I can't blame him for sleeping, though. This is the only day, apart from Sundays, that he gets a day off from work. It's good to abuse the few extra hours in bed, considering how rare they really are. I typically use this time training with Tina and Mercedes, my only two friends here, but I can't guarantee I'll be able to meet up with both of them this year. Mercedes is the only one that needs to worry about training now that Tina had won the Games last year. Tina did promise that she would continue to help us, but I'm not sure if her parents will let her.

Before I leave, I walk into the kitchen for something to eat. Not that there's much there to eat, apart from a few loaves of bread and some grain. Since the grain will taste far too dry, I decide to take a few slices of the cinnamon bread Tina sent us a few days ago, before heading to the door. After slipping my boots on at the door, I consider either calling out to tell my father where I'm going, or write a note, before I decide against it. He'll know where I am. I do this every year. He'll probably ask more questions and be concerned if I choose to stay at home.

I look around the streets, and as predicted, they're empty, apart from a few children running around. They don't greet me as usual as I pass them, and I can only guess they're savouring this time in case one of them is selected. I don't really understand why though. I know their parents, and each of them only have one slip with their name. Their odds are so slim they don't even need to worry too much.

It takes me just under a quarter of an hour to reach Mercedes' parent's textile shop. I don't know if any of them will be awake, but as I get closer I see Mercedes sitting behind the counter, working on her Reaping dress. We do this every year – make something for our Reaping clothes – but we usually have them finished in time. I open the door and smile at her.

"You still aren't finished?" I ask, smiling softly as I close the door behind me.

Mercedes looks up from the dress, and smiles "Well, Kurt, not all of us just need to make clothes with a hundred other girls. I have to help run this shop, and make half of the clothes." She laughs before shaking her head "I should be done before it starts though, don't worry."

"That's good, we can't have you walking around in some half hearted thing, can we?" I tease lightly, before handing her the other slice of cinnamon bread I had.

"Shut it, Hummel" She warns jokingly, before smiling as she takes a bite from the bread "Thanks" she says after swallowing the bite down "This the stuff Tina sent?"

"Yeah, we still haven't finished it yet. We still have a few slices left." I say, before sitting up on the counter. "Where is Tina, anyway?"

Mercedes puts her dress, and needle down giving an eye roll "Her parents came by yesterday to pick up her sister's Reaping dress and told us Tina will be sleeping in as 'she doesn't need to wake up and prepare any more'. You know, even though she helps us" She frowns and continues working on her dress.

"Do you think your parents will do that next year?" I ask, trailing my hands over the surface of the counter.

"Who knows?" Mercedes shrugs "I think they'll be relieved that I made it through all Reapings without having to go into the Arena. But if I'm chosen today, then that's not happening, and you're going to have to train alone.

"Don't talk like that, Mercedes.." I frown as I turn to face her. "You do fine in Training, you have a chance of winning if you hide, because eventually, the Careers will get bored and end up killing each other. It happens a lot."

"That's easy for you to say, Mr 'His Mother Was A Past Victor'." Mercedes puffs a little, and I scowl a little, looking away from her "You've been doing this since you could walk in a straight line without falling over. You're like one of the Careers when it comes to this"

"I'm not like the Careers, the past eight years, I've been training myself, as well as you and Tina! I'm not that good" I let out an exasperated sigh. I've had this conversation with Tina and Mercedes a lot. While I won't doubt that I'm not completely lacking in skill, I'm nowhere near as good as they both claim I am.

"I'm not even going to argue with you, Kurt because you're not even going to listen to me anyway," Mercedes tuts quietly before staring to work on her dress again.

There was a slightly awkward silence, before it was broken by someone walking through the door.

"I managed to get away."

"Tina!" I jump off the counter, before rushing over, wrapping my arms around her tightly, choosing to ignore the slightly choked noise coming from her.

"Let the girl breathe, Kurt" Mercedes laughs, walking over as she manages to prise me away from her, before hugging her just as tightly, though, admittedly not for as long.

"God, I'm surprised you two haven't killed yet with your hugs" Tina laughs a little breathlessy "They're like death traps."

"Never mind that, how did you get away from your parents?" Mercedes asks, pulling Tina to the counter, gesturing for me to follow.

"Well, my parents woke up to get Ashley up, but they went straight back to sleep. I'm never going to be able to just sleep through it, so I sneaked out."

"How will your parents react if they find out?" I ask tilting my head a little.

"They won't." She says, shaking her head. "They asked Ashley to wake them up, so that they could wake me up, and I managed to convince her, to wait until I was back in bed before she woke them."

"Are you sure that'll work?" Mercedes asks sceptically.

"Do you not know my parents, Mercedes?" Tina sighs "They will not wake up early today. They'll spend as much time physically possible in bed."

"Oh yeah, they're like that on Sundays too" Mercedes nods, dropping her gaze back on the dress.

"Anyway, enough of that" Tina shakes her head, reaching into her bag, taking out a small box "I got us strawberries!"

"How did you get them?" I ask, looking at the box.

"My prep team sent them to me" Tina says, opening the box, and placing it in the middle of us. "They thought I could do with a treat considering what's happening today."

"God, I've not had these since you came home!" Mercedes beams, leaning forward to take a handful off them.

"Mercedes, your dress!" I say with wide eyes, looking down at it.

Mercedes rolls her eyes at me "Strawberries aren't something I get a lot, okay? I'm going to focus more on that than a dress to make me look pretty for the Capitol."

I had to admit it, Mercedes had a point. But still, I didn't want the dress she'd been working on for so long to be ruined if any strawberry juice fell on it. Giving a soft sigh, I click my fingers twice, holding my hand out.

"Here, I'll finish it for you. You and Tina enjoy the strawberries." I say, smiling a little.

"Are you sure, Kurt?" Tina asks, after swallowing down a strawberry, placing the stalk of it back in the box.

"I'm sure. I'll have some if there's any left when I'm done."

"God, you are brilliant, Kurt. Thank you" Mercedes practically beams at me, before handing me the unfinished dress.

"Don't worry about it." I laugh a little, waving it off.

* * *

We spend the rest of our time in Mercedes' textile shop talking about anything but the upcoming Reaping. It always was like this. Neither of us actually wanted to talk about it at all in what could be the last hours we spent together. We did talk about training for a while, but we don't stay on that subject for too long, as it's too similar to what the Games are about, and the Games and the Reaping are why we plan to train anyway.

As soon as I finish working on Mercedes' dress, Tina's eyes widen as she notices the time., and she announces that she has to go back home to pretend to wake up, before thrusting me the box of leftover strawberries, before dashing out of the room. I was about to suggest going to the woods with just Mercedes, but I frown when seeing the clock. There's no way we're going to get enough training done, and get ready in time for the Reaping. I jump off the counter, waving goodbye to Mercedes, before heading back home, eating some of the strawberries along the way.

* * *

When I get back home, I frown when I don't see my father anywhere. He couldn't still be in bed, could he? I walk over, and place the box of strawberries on the kitchen table, slipping off my jacket and boots.

"Dad?" I call out, looking around the room in case I just missed him "You awake?"

"I'm getting ready, Kurt" I breathe a small sigh of relief, before starting to walk over to my room, as he walks out in his old suit, though I can't help but frown seeing that his lapels aren't straight. "What took you so long? You need to be ready in an hour."

I sigh a little, smiling as I walk over to him, fixing the lapels "I was just at the textile shop. I just lost track of time."

"Just be on time next year" He says, giving a soft smile, trying to push my hands away as I fix the lapels, though he doesn't really try too hard to resist.

I frown a little, walking away from him as I head into my bedroom, opening the door to my wardrobe. "That's if there will _be _a next year." I mutter darkly, pulling out my clothes for the Reaping.

"Kurt, you're not going to be chosen." My father says, probably for the hundredth time this week. "There's kids out there that have over a hundred slips in that damn bowl. You only have twenty eight, Kurt."

"I still have a lot more compared to others." I protest, starting to smooth out the creases of my clothes on the bed

"Kurt, you're not going to be chosen" My father says, seriously "Even if you do, someone is going to volunteer for you. I promise."

I don't believe him. I know there's a chance that I might not be chosen, but there's only one person who will volunteer who can even compete in the Games that will, and Mercedes wouldn't be allowed. None of the guys in District Eight I know that well, and the ones that do know more than my face aren't anywhere close to being my friend, and wouldn't think twice about volunteering for me. It's not something that I like to think about anyway.

"Dad.." I say, exasperatedly "Can you just.. let me get ready?"

Fortunately, he doesn't try to push the conversation further, and leaves me to get dressed. I bought most of it from Mercedes' shop, but the ruffled shirt I made myself just last week. It doesn't really take me too long to actually put my clothes on, so I work on quiffing my hair, until I hear my dad rapping on my door, telling me that we have to leave. I quickly run my fingers through my hair, before standing up, feeling a hell of lot more nervous now that I had to leave. I sigh shakily at my reflection, before nodding, heading out of the room.

* * *

My father and I get to the town centre fifteen minutes before the Reaping was due to start. We don't stay together long, and he goes off to the side to watch with the others who are lucky enough not to compete any more, but yet still have the misfortune to potentially watch a loved one walk to their death. It's unusual to see the screens and cameras decked out across the town centre, but it's all part of the show.. Even though none of the Tributes die here, it's still a good source of drama for the Capitol watchers.

Within the hour, the town centre gets more and more full, and it's hard for me to see my father, or Tina and Mercedes. I push myself more to the side of the pen filled with the group of the other seventeen year old males, so it's easier for me to see. I find Mercedes a lot easier now, with the eighteen year old girls. I smile weakly as I wave, holding her gaze as she returns it before looking at the stage. It's all I can do or say right now. If I open my mouth to do more than breath, I'm sure that I'll end up spewing.

At two o'clock, the mayor comes out, giving the same speech and story about the history of Panem, and then reads out the Treaty of Treason. After all of this is read out, he reads out the past Victors of District Eight: Woof, Lily Hummel (my mother...I look at the ground, avoiding anyone's gaze as her name is read out), Cecilia, Christopher Morgan (apparently he turned into a complete pervert after the Games. Tina mentioned that he gave her a rough time when she was a Tribute) William Schuester, and Tina Cohen-Chang. Surprisingly, in this time, only one of them has died from the start, though I don't think Woof has very long to go. His hearing is getting worse, and he's becoming more senile. He might only have a few more years left.

They all walk into the stage, and it's clear that Tina only one last year. The others have a certain air about them, and they've all sat through this countless of times. Tina still looks as nervous as she did when she was still eligible to be a Tribute.

Once the past Victors take their place on the stage, our District's escort, Salena Papp, struts to the podium, grinning like a Cheshire cat. Her hair has changed colour from the last time I saw her, as it was now electric blue, compared to the sea foam green from last year – I suspect a wig. She clears her throat, and calls out in a loud, happy voice "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be _ever_ in your favour!" She speaks for a while about how amazing it is to be here, but we all know she only likes District Eight because we're responsible for the atrocious clothes she was wearing. I really hope whoever designed that intended it to look dreadful.

"Ladies first!" She calls out, loudly and sharply. Salena shoves her talon like hands into the bowl, rummaging her hand around for a minute or so before pulling out a slip. I quickly turn to look at Mercedes nervously, who was looking at the ground, her eyes shut over tightly, and seemed to be praying. I continue to watch her until the girl's name is called out "Scarlett Grey!"

Well. I wasn't expecting that. I feel relieved that Mercedes is safe forever. She's noticeably happy, but once Scarlett walks out, her face drops. I turn around, and instantly feel horrible for the feeling of relief. Even though I didn't know the girl, it still hurt to see her walk up there. She wasn't going to make it home more than likely, and it stung that this could be the last time she's going to see our faces, and this is the last time we'll see her in person.

I don't have much time to think about Scarlett as Salena is trotting her obnoxious self over to the male bowl. I'm suddenly overcome with nerves, as they fill me completely, making me feel nervous. Why was she taking longer to walk to that bowl? Was she actually taking longer, or was it just the nerves slowing everything down. I shut my eyes over tightly, not daring to open them until the name is called out. I hear the slip being pulled out sharply, and my head starts reeling as my heart starts pounding so hard I can hear it ringing in my ears. I hold my breath as Salena unfolds the slips and clears her throat loudly, and I'm sure that I'm going to faint right there and then.

A quiet squeal of excitement comes from her lips, as she opens it, and I _know_ that this isn't going to be good. Salena clears her throat and calls out the male Tribute's name loud and clear, and my knees buckle as it's called out.

"Kurt Hummel."

* * *

**AN: Next chapter will be from Blaine's POV.**

**Reviews are awesome and make me happy~**


	2. Lift Your Hands Towards The Sun

**AN: I didn't write this one~ This was by Dec (:**

**_Blaine's reaping. I haven't written first person for a long while - apologies for any mistakes found._  
**

* * *

One hundred and ten.

When I think about it, it seems like a colossal number. Too many zeros for my brain to handle. Zeros tumbling over zeros to be at the end until it just keeps going and going and the number never ends. It is infinite.

When I write it down in figures, it doesn't seem so bad. Kind of looks like the front of a train, maybe, although one of the old fashioned ones. Not the fancy things that the Capitol have.

Not the speeding bullets that come to our District every year and condemn two children to death.

I don't regret putting my name forwards for tesserae so many times. I think if I regretted it, I wouldn't have done it in the first place. That's the rule I try to live by. Of course, when you live in one of the Districts and the horror of the Hunger Games looms around your head like an angry storm cloud, risks are sometimes necessary. But I try not to take more than is appropriate.

My family comes first. Well.. my siblings. The way I see it, I take risks, I put their lives in danger. And that's something I'd never want to do. If I were to lose one of them, I don't even know what I'd do. The unthinkable.

I have five, but I pretend I have four. It's just easier now that.. that he's gone. I try not to be spiteful, I try to see things from his point of view, but then I remember the conditions we, a family of seven, live in.

And suddenly I'm not so open-minded anymore.

My brothers and sister, though, they're the absolute world to me. There's my little princess, Alice, followed by the next oldest, Noah. They're safe. They're too young to know what it's like to wake up, on Reaping Day, and feel like your body could just give in at any moment. My body never has, however.

Because they keep me going.

It's Carson's first year, today. It's funny, how cheerful we all were on his birthday, celebrating the fact that he'd reached twelve. That there was now the possibility he could die. No-one said anything, but we all knew. It was impossible not to. Nothing, however, prepares you for the first time dread you feel when you wake up on your first Reaping Day.

I look over at him. He's still sleeping, soundly, with no signs of any nightmares plaguing his dreams. I thank my lucky stars there'll be no screaming, no crying, no panicking when he wakes up. Carson has a good set of lungs on him, and I know for a fact that when he starts, he doesn't stop. It'd probably take me the time I'm supposed to use to get ready to soothe him back to his usual calm, collected self.

My eyes flicker over to the body curled up in the blankets next to him, and I'm not surprised in the slightest to see a pair of bright blue eyes staring back at me.

Dallas doesn't sleep on Reaping Day.

He's fourteen now, survived two years, and I'm determined to keep it that way until he's in the clear. By taking on the tesserae in place of them both, in place of all my family, they have the minimum amount of slips in that goldfish bowl. Their chances are slim, very slim, and I can only hope that luck is on my side. That they'll make it, that they'll reach the age of eighteen and still never have to compete in the treacherous games. The same goes for the other two. But there's only so much luck one person can have.

By now, I can't be too sure, but I guess I've been lying here for a little less than forty five minutes. The sunlight streaming in through the window is enough to indicate to me it's still early in the morning, the sun is still rising, and I still have a few hours to spare before we're all herded like cattle into the town centre. I suppose lying motionless isn't healthy for the nerves building in my stomach, so eventually, I manage to slide anything less than gracefully out of bed.

I get dressed in a matter of moments. I don't wear my Reaping clothes, not just yet. If I get those dirty, my mother will kill me, and well, I don't particularly need that. Not today. So, silent as a shadow, I slip out of our cabin, knowing for certain that Dallas' anxious gaze is following me as I go.

* * *

Going about my usual business of chopping trees for timber keeps me busy for about an hour before I am called back inside again. Judging by the colour of the sun, the temperature of the air, I can tell it's getting closer. I give myself two hours at the most, and then promptly decide it's best not to think about it. So I busy myself with getting both myself and my siblings washed and dressed.

Heading back inside our cabin, I'm greeted by a low murmur of voices, like the buzz of a bee. Everyone's awake, as expected, and with nothing more than a polite nod I set the logs I collected in the wicker basket, close to where my parents are sitting. They don't acknowledge me.

They never do.

"Blainey!"

Turning my head, a soft smile breaks out across my lips as I drop to my knees, scooping the very girl that emitted the squeal of my name up into the safety of my arms.

"B-Blainey, that tickles!"

Her giggles are infectious, and I can't help but chuckle softly at how happy she is, how innocent. I wish I could say the same for the rest of the children in District Seven, but sadly, this isn't the case. With a gentle kiss to her forehead, I set her back down.

"Come on, princess. Let's make you all nice and pretty," I say, running my fingers through her hair affectionately as she wriggles away, like a worm, her smile still warm and bright as she looks up at me.

Her eyes are full of so much promise, so much trust, and it breaks my heart to know that she doesn't suspect a single thing. She doesn't know why we go to the town centre once a year, and she doesn't know where the two children chosen disappear off to. In time, she will. But I like to think I can allow her to savour her innocence while it's still there.

Alice fetches me the bath, with the help of her older brothers, and in no time at all we're settling back into the routine of washing ourselves, our bodies, our hair. In many ways, we're like dogs. We prepare ourselves, we make ourselves look as beautiful or as handsome as we possibly can, and then we're put out there in the town centre for show. Some are stronger than others, some clean up better. Whatever happens, we are not people.

We are the Capitol's playthings.

When it finally rolls round to my turn to wash (I make sure the others go first, so they have time to get dressed), I find myself taking a little longer than usual. I usually tend to get on with it, as I don't particularly care for my own appearance so long as my siblings are happy. But with each scrub, each pour of water, each water droplet trickling down my skin, I wish. I wish that maybe, just maybe, I can wash my worries away along with the dirt.

After patting myself dry and chasing Alice round with the towel, to make sure she is, too, it's time to get dressed. Dallas doesn't seem to want any help - he's independant, always has been. He accepts help when it's offered, but for the most part, he knows that I have to look after the younger ones before I tend to his own needs. He understands this. It's kind of an unspoken agreement we have - that, and the fact that if I get chosen, he will take on the role of being in charge. It's a lot to ask of a fourteen year old, but his maturity far surpasses his age.

I get myself dressed in my Reaping clothes in a matter of minutes, before I have to deal with the task of clothing both Noah and Alice. Alice seems happy enough to oblige - she holds out her dress towards me with the brightest smile I've ever seen - but Noah is too distracted with a ladybird to care about such idle things as outfits.

"D, would you mind helping Noah, please?" I ask, shooting him a grateful smile as he nods, going over to grab his younger brother's attention.

"Blaine.."

I look up at the sound of a quiet voice, gently buttoning up Alice's dress before pressing a kiss to her forehead, softly telling her she's done. With a smile, she hops away, though Carson remains by my side, his Reaping clothes in hand. He's shaking, though from the way his grip is so tight on his shirt, I can tell he's trying to stop it.

With gentle fingers, I take the clothes from him, carefully laying them out on the bed as I look up at him. He's pale, nervous, and his eyes never linger on one spot for long. Carson's having trouble holding my gaze, so with a soft smile, I hook my fingertips under his chin.

"Carson, look at me," I instruct, my voice soothing as I tilt his head a little further so our eyes meet, "it's okay to be scared.. you don't have to hide it."

He bites his bottom lip, and I watch as his throat ripples as he swallows. We stay there in silence for a few moments, before he's moving forward and curling up in my lap, his grip incredibly tight around my body as he buries his head in my chest.

"Hey, hey.. shh.. I've got you," I whisper, softly, wrapping my arms around him as I hold him close. One of my hands finds its way up Carson's back, my fingers starting to run soothingly through his hair as I begin a slow rock, hoping to calm him back down.

He's silent. I know that if I look down, his eyes will be clamped shut, and his expression unreadable. When he's upset, he doesn't like to talk. He hides. He stays quiet and hopes that my attempts will be enough to soothe him, and honestly, I can only hope for the same thing.

"Don't worry, Carson.. don't worry.. one slip.. that's all you've got."

I don't say it, and neither does he, but it's both in our heads.

When it comes down to the Reaping, even one slip could mean the difference between life and death.

* * *

"You don't even feel it, C.. I swear. Just a prick."

I can hear Dallas explaining the process of signing in in front of me as we walk, my hazel gaze keeping a close eye on them. I know for a fact Carson doesn't particularly mind needles, or blood, or anything like that, but it's his first Reaping. This whole thing is new to him, and he'll be scared. I can almost see his heart thumping in his chest as we slowly walk towards the row of Peacekeepers.

"You two wait for me once you've been registered, okay? I don't want to lose you," I say, firmly, yet keeping my tone as soft as possible. I don't like ordering them around in the slightest, but when it comes down to this, I'd rather be bossy than lose sight of my brothers.

We register, separately, myself finishing first. I wait for them both not too far away, so they can see me, and together we walk towards the group of males settling in the town centre. We wait for what seems like eternity in deafening silence before everyone's finally gathered in the centre. I keep both Dallas and Carson close to my body, holding tight to both of their hands. I may only be a few years older than them, but I am their older brother. I'm the one that sets the example, that keeps them calm. I'm the one that must remain relaxed for their own sake. It's a lot harder when the anticipation of waiting won't stop gnawing away at my stomach, so I'm glad for the fact the mayor of District Seven soon appears.

He gives the usual speech about the history of Panem, before moving on to the Treaty of Treason. I'm almost positive I zone out, since this is the fifth time I've heard it. Instead I focus on keeping my heart out of my throat and actually in my chest, and trying not to open my mouth in fear of something unpleasant coming out. The victor's list is short and sweet: Blight, Cooper Anderson, and Johanna Mason.

Almost instantly once the mayor's finished reading their names, the victors appear on stage. I see him. I see him as clear as day.

And he sees me.

It never fails to amaze me, just how quickly Cooper can find me in the crowd, in the mass of boys. I have nothing that particularly makes me stand out from the others, so I have no idea how he does it. But what I do know is that I don't want to look back, so I turn my gaze to something more interesting, like the younger brother on my right.

One that actually managed to stand by when I needed him.

_Now isn't the time for grudges, Blaine_. I tell myself, sharply, shaking my head a little to rattle away all negative thoughts about any certain brothers I may or may not wish to write a very strongly worded letter to. Right now I have bigger fish to fry, like making sure I help my brothers through this, and actually paying attention, now that our District's escort has trotted out on stage.

Bryn Valentina. That's her name. I haven't met a lot of people from the Capitol, so I don't know if all of them have such unique names as that, but I can only suspect the answer is yes. Simply from the way she dresses, the way she styles herself, I can tell this. Her hair is a deep, fire red this year, and her clothes match. From where I'm standing, she looks like a walking flame, although her shrill voice soon cuts through that effect.

"Welcome, welcome! Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be _ever_ in your favour!"

Her cheerful welcome is greeted by silence, as per usual, as we all wait with bated breath for her to start rambling on about how District Seven is so incredibly important to the Capitol.

She doesn't fail to meet our expectations.

It goes on for about an hour or so, I think, I'm not too sure. I don't know how or why lumber is so important to them, but I suppose they need something to make their furniture. To be honest, I know next to nothing about the Capitol, and listening to Bryn going on and on about my own District is old news. I think she either has a script or very little to say, because I'm almost positive this is what she said last year.

"Now, the time has come for us to choose two daring tributes to compete in the seventy fourth annual Hunger Games."

I bite my lip. This is it, it's about to happen. The moment all three of us, no, the whole town centre has been waiting for for probably weeks on end.

"Ladies first."

She turns, sharply, strutting herself over to the large bowl on her left. Bryn dips her hand inside, tantalisingly wafting her fingers over the small slips of paper, before diving. Her claws come up victorious, and she returns to the podium to declare the fate of one young lady.

"Melyssa St. James."

Her voice rings out across the centre, and I realise with a jolt that her name is familiar. It's typical. I know next to no-one in my District, and one of the few that I do has been chosen to participate in the Hunger Games. I almost feel guilty for bringing this upon her, but I force myself to believe otherwise. This isn't my fault. This is the Capitol's, for bringing such a game upon us in the first place. I watch as she takes to the stage, and I have to give her credit for remaining so calm. However, I know she also has a few brothers of her own - maybe she's keeping her expression unreadable for them? I know for a fact that if I wa- well.. if I am chosen, I won't want any of my siblings to know the true emotions inside. I have to remain strong for them, no matter what.

I have little time to think before Bryn's strolling over to the boys' bowl, my breath hitching uncomfortably as I watch her hand disappear inside, fishing around so incredibly casually. I give both Dallas and Carson's hand a reassuring squeeze, shutting my eyes tight and waiting. I wait for my own name to echo across the silent courtyard.

"JonCristper St. James."

It never comes. Another boy's name is called out, one who shares Lyssa's surname, and.. and oh no..

I watch, the entire town centre watches as a twelve year old steps out from between the male huddle. He looks so small compared to everyone else, so naive. So unprepared. Glancing around at the crowd quickly, I see the pain across everyone's features, the severity of the situation reflected in their own eyes. It's completely awful when a twelve year old is chosen, because everyone knows they're not ready. They're too young to be sent to fight to the death.

He's walking slow to the front, and hell, I can't blame him. This is probably the last time he'll see us all, see his District, his siblings, his parents. Speaking of which, I quickly scan the crowd, and there they are. JC and Lyssa's parents. The pain and agony radiating off them is obvious, and I can barely stand to watch. Two of their children have been entered in the games - at most, one of them survive, though knowing their odds, probably neither of them will be coming back. Looking back to Lyssa, I notice instantly how cloudy her eyes are. Cloudy with the unmistakeable glint of pain, of horror, and I can't take it.

I just can't take it.

Abruptly letting go of my younger brothers' hands, I push my way through the crowd, through the mass of people until I can stand rigid in between both huddles.

"I volunteer!" I yell, my voice loud as I try to stop it from shaking. I take a deep breath to steady it, and then I try again, "I volunteer as tribute."

Everyone around me is gasping, turning their heads and trying to make sense of the situation. The whole town probably thinks I'm suicidal, volunteering when I have no relation to either of the tributes whatsoever. They have no idea what I'm doing.

I don't think even _I _know what I'm doing.

But then it hits me, hard, and I realise. I see myself in Lyssa's shoes - already devastated about the fact I've been chosen as tribute, but I battle on. I battle on for my siblings, because I am their role model and I must be strong. But then, then my younger brother is called out, and I can hardly believe it. I'm more upset about that then I am about my own name being read off a slip, and I don't know what to do. I beg, I'm begging, I'm pleading for someone to volunteer, anyone..

And then it hits me, _harder_, and I realise.

I am now a tribute in the seventy fourth Hunger Games.

I am going to die.

* * *

_**Hi all, Dec here. :3**_

_**So I'll be writing Blaine's chapters, but just a heads up, I'm a bit of a super procrastinator. I'll try my best to get these written for you as soon as possible, but apologies in advance if I take longer than Sami.**_

_**Aaaand in case it wasn't already obvious, for the sake of this AU / fanfic, Blaine has OC siblings. Just a few younger ones for him to look after. **_

_**As always, reviews are totally awesome and always welcome. :)**_


	3. But The Beating Of Our Hearts

**AN: I am so, so, so sorry this took as long to update! My muse was just.. completely dead and I couldn't write. It was irritating as well because I _knew _what I wanted to happen. I give each and every one of you to bother the fuck out of me on tumblr if I leave updates for fics past two and a half weeks. (My tumblr is the same as my pen name :3)**

**Anyway, Bringing Something We Must Learn will hopefully be updated later tonight, or tomorrow. It should be Saturday at the latest. I also have two more ideas (a one shot, and two full fics) which I'll get up later on in the week (: **

**Reviews: **

**drama123: Thank you! : D That actually what had inspired me to start this AU in the first place. I read the Hunger Games, and just fell in love with it instantly. And for some reason I connected it with Klaine and this happened xD**

**TheDapperGleek: asdfghjl thank youuu 3~ (Is it bad that I kind of squee when I see your reviews? Haha). Oh god, I actually do feel like I owe people if I take too long with updating! The most I can offer is more chapters though..**

**Anyway, on with chapter 3! (Actual chapter title is: "I Believe In Nothing But The Beating Of Our Hearts)**

* * *

As soon as my name was called out, everything apart from the people on the stage and myself seemed to melt away from the world. This couldn't be happening. This had to be some kind of nightmare of mine – it had to be. I've dreamt about this a lot of times (though, Mercedes is the female Tribute next to me, ever since Tina won last year), and I was just hoping that this was one of those times, and my brain had just wired itself to make it more believable by selecting a girl I barely know as the female Tribute.

But the humming coming from behind me somehow makes this seem so real.

I forget that this is happening, and that everyone in District Eight's eyes were on me, or on the massive screens where my face was more than likely blown up for all of Panem to see when this is televised. It wasn't until I heard the boy next to me hiss loudly in my ear, and nudge me roughly out of the crowd that I was actually able to snap back to reality. Otherwise, I think I would've stayed there until I either passed out, or one of the Peacekeepers dragged me out onto the stage.

As I start to walk, I stumble, finding it unable to walk as normal. I'm not sure if it's because my legs are either refusing to work, or my eyes are just filling to the brim with tears starting to form. I can't cry, though. I'll refuse to. Not until I'm not in front of any cameras. I can just let everything out once I'm _sure_ I'm alone. I can't let the Career Tributes know that straight away that I won't last in this competition. After all, the Boy from District Eight Who Cried From the Start seems like a pretty easy target after all.

Eventually, after a walk that seems like it was walking all the way to the Capitol, rather than the thirty feet walk to where I was standing to the stage, I join Scarlett and Salena. I look at them as I walk past them to where I was to stand, glaring at Salena as I approach her; the foolish woman from the Capitol completely oblivious to the look of disgust. I take a deep breath once I stand on Salena's left, daring to look at the crowd, and immediately, my gaze falls on my father.

At that moment, I could feel my heart splitting in two. It was the exact same look that I saw my father wearing when we were told about my mother passing away in the medic's house. This was too much. I wasn't going to last until I got in the train, I knew it.

I hold my father's gaze for a few more moments, before I look down as a sob catches in my throat. I couldn't look at him any longer before I was going to lose my composure entirely, and end up collapsing, and wake up in the Capitol, or at least on the train. I didn't want that to happen. I _needed_ to say goodbye to everyone before they see me dying on screen. Taking a shaky breath, I bring my hands up to rub over my eyes, wiping away the tears, before dropping my arms down to my sides. I glance out of my eye and look at the screen, and I couldn't help but feel relieved that my eyes are only slightly redder than usual, and that I wasn't that close to sobbing. Obviously, with me wiping my eyes, I was getting on the edge, but either way, my chances are just a smidgeon higher than they would be if I'd just let the tears fall.

"There you go ladies and gentleman, your District Eight tributes - Scarlett Grey and Kurt Hummel!"

I couldn't help but notice that Salena sounded way too damn happy about this – that Scarlett and I were about to be sent to our deaths, or maybe it's just me. My mind's too filled with negative thoughts. Almost anything remotely cheerful was extinguished almost immediately, and any negative thoughts that came into my mind seemed to be amplified by a couple of hundred times.

After smiling witlessly at the crowd for a few moments, Salena turns to me and Scarlett, wearing what could possibly be the most sickeningly sweet smiles that you'll ever see on a person.

"And may the odds be _ever_ in your favour!"

Again, I glare at Salena, though much more obvious and more intense than the previous one. Words couldn't even begin to describe how much I hated that phrase, especially when it was said by a member of the Capitol. At least to Tributes – or potential Tribtues - it has some form of meaning. For Captiol members, it was just a catchphrase for the Games. Nothing more; nothing less. Though, now I'm such a big part of the Games now, it's... It's definitely one of the worst things anybody could say to me.

I take a deep breath, and close my eyes as the anthem of Panem plays. When I open them again, instead of seeing us being escorted away, I see the town centre was empty apart from me and Scarlett, along with Salena, who was screaming at the Peacekeepers who were supposed to escort us to the Justice Building about something unimportant, probably how awful she thinks District Eight is. Whatever she's ranting about, she's going to take a while, and I decide that it's probably better to talk to Scarlett, rather than just sit in an awkward silence before we're escorted away. I'm not sure what to say, however, so I wait for Scarlett to speak first, if she even wants to.

It doesn't seem like Scarlett is going to speak, as she stares at her shoes, and while I was a little disappointed that I had to awkwardly start a conversation, I could see why. We barely knew each other, and this is probably the first time we've been in a situation where we've had to be together. We don't know what will be a comfort to us, or what will make things worse for the other person. I don't want someone I know well to be with me though. I don't want them to have to kill me, or for me to kill them. It sounds awful, but I'd feel like I'd be in their debt from the start, and I'd be less likely to kill them more than I already feel about the prospect of killing Scarlett just now. I feel awful for even thinking about it. I decide then that if we somehow both manage to get to the final two, that I'll let her win. It may be tough on my father, but maybe it would be more comforting that I had a noble death, rather than be brutally ripped apart by a bloodthirsty Career.

God.. I hate myself for thinking like this. It isn't right.

Taking a small breath, I look over at Scarlett and offer her a very small, and weak smile, hoping to relieve the tension.

"Good luck," I say, only just managing not to sound like an emotionless drone. Scarlett's head then snaps up, probably out of shock. I then mentally slap myself, sighing as I look down with a scowl. I'm a complete idiot. That was the worst thing I could've said in this situation. "Sorry," I mumble, not daring to look up at Scarlett.

Scarlett then sighs "It's fine," She's looking down at her feet again when I glance over at her. "Not like there's an etiquette for situations like this."

I give a weak laugh, and look at my feet as well. She was right. There _wasn't_ an etiquette for these situations. "I suppose so," I saw giving a nod.

After another few more awkward moments of silence, I look back up at Scarlett again "I guess we should probably head to the Justice Building now. I don't think those Peacekeepers are going to take us any time soon. They'll be expecting us to say.. " My voice fails me, thanks to a sob catching on my voice as I attempt to speak. I give a small cough, managing to get rid of the lump in my throat. "To say goodbye.."

She looks back up at me, and I try not to hold her gaze, at least not for too long "Yes, we probably should be on our way."

Before I can reply to Scarlett, Salena seems to finish off screaming, and the Peacekeepers quickly approach us, and drag us to the Justice Building like we're criminals. I don't really understand why they need to treat us like this, but presumably, it's so we don't run away. I don't know if this is an actual threat, but I don't know if any Tribute has been stupid enough to run before. While it's tempting to, they'll only catch us, or failing that, punish our loved ones until we submit to the Games. I can't remember any instances where a Tribute has ran away, and I can't find anything on record. Though, if a Tribute had ran away, or attempted to, the Capitol would probably do everything in their power to cover it up.

I nod at Scarlett once we get into the Justice Building, and I'm lead to what is probably one of the most luxurious rooms I've ever been in. It's probably the first time I've actually seen the materials we produce here actually being used for more than a seat cover, cushion, or a fancy item of clothing. It's slightly strange to me, but it does help me relax a little.

* * *

After a few minutes had passed, I hear the door swinging open, and as I turn around, the first thing I see is a tearful Mercedes pulling me into a tight hug as she starts sobbing uncontrollably. Slowly, I wrap my arms around her, shushing her softly. I realize now just how hard this is going to be on her. This is the second time that she's been in this position; possibly saying goodbye to one of her best friends, and in two years in a row. I have to at least try and stay strong for her, because if I'm a weeping wreck? It's only going to make Mercedes feel even worse about what was happening.

"Kurt, _please."_ She cries into my shoulder "Please don't die... I can't –"

"Shh.." I rub over her back slowly, soothingly "I don't plan to. Not any time soon."

"Promise you'll come back home?"

My breath hitches a little. Because I can't keep this promise in the way Mercedes means it. Because more than likely, I will be coming home in a body bag, or something similar, depending on how lucky or unlucky I get.

"I promise.." I manage to choke out, sniffing a little as I look down at Mercedes.

"Good..", Mercedes smiles at me weakly, and gives a nod. "While you're gone, I'll take care of Burt while you're gone. I know it's going to be hard on him... And his health,"

At this, my face falls, and I mentally slap myself. How did I forget? How on earth could I forget that my father's health wasn't exactly good, and that things couldn't get too stressful?

A few years ago, when I was fourteen, my father had a heart attack. Ever since my mother's death, he hadn't been taking as much care for his health as he should've done. He wasn't eating the right things, and apart from the walk to the factory from our house, he wasn't exercising. This eventually took it's toll on my father, and I nearly lost him. If it wasn't for my mother's friend, Miska, who was a retired doctor, my father would be dead, and I would be as well, or at the very least a prisoner of the Capitol. I would've refused to live in the community home, and would've ran away from District Eight. I knew even then that I wouldn't even make it five miles in the forest. The forest itself was a few miles away from District Eight, and apart from that, there isn't much, if any, greenery within fifteen miles of it. Something wild would've killed me, or the Capitol would've found me, and I'd either be arrested or killed on the spot.

Even to this day, I'm still grateful to Miska, and I doubt I'll ever not owe him. I would've lost the most important person in my life – the only person that I know I love – and my life would probably be more of a living hell than it already was. Ever since he recovered well enough for Miska to stop checking up on him daily, I made it part of my daily routine to make sure that he was eating as healthily as he could with the money we had, and that he was getting enough exercise. I never took him into the woods with Mercedes and Tina, as I knew that would've been too dangerous. Instead, we would walk around all of District Eight before returning home. Miska still came every month, just to make sure that he wasn't having any health problems, and if he kept up how he was eating, and exercising, he shouldn't have another heart attack, unless he over strained or stressed himself. A year or so ago, he nearly had another. When Tina was Reaped, any time I could get away, I went into the forest and practised for as long as I could before returning home. The longer I was away, the more paranoid my father got, and when Miska warned us that my father was dealing with so much stress that it was very likely that he'd had a heart attack, and I decided to stop going into the forest as much when my father mentioned that it as because of my going into the forest every day, despite the watching of the Games being mandatory. I still went into the forest to make sure my skills weren't getting rusty.

But this... I don't know what will get him through this if someone isn't there to look after him.

"T-thank you" I say to her shakily, just managing to hold her gaze, only breaking it when the door opens and two Peacekeepers walk in, and start pulling Mercedes out.

I take a few steps forward to her when she's at the door, panic evident in my voice. "Whatever you do – don't let him – " A sob catching in my throat cuts me off.

"I won't, Kurt -" Mercedes just manages to speak before she's pulled out of the room, and the door slams shut.

I take a deep breath and sink into one of the couches, slumping as I start staring up at the ceiling. Saying goodbye was a lot harder than I thought it would be. I knew that it would be next to impossible, but I had no idea that it would be _this_ hard.

The door opens again and I immediately bolt right up. The couple that walked through wasn't who I was expecting. I recognize them as Scarlett's parents. They don't really speak, and wish me good luck. Obviously, they're hoping for their daughter to return home, rather than me, and I can't say I blame them. You'd obviously want someone that you love to come back home over some kid you barely know. They leave before the Peacekeepers come for them, and as soon as they leave, I'm attacked by a flurry of Tina.

"As soon as you get into the Arena, grab a knife," She says, not letting go of me. "They don't always have a bow and arrow, but they almost always have knives. Get one of those, and fight for the bow if you have to."

Of course.. it was what Tina's tactic was last year, and it obviously worked out pretty well for her, and – not that I'm bragging – I taught her how to use a bow and arrow in the first place, so I'm slightly more skilled than she is. It's kind of a given after fourteen years of training, the first five of those years I was being taught by a previous Victor. "What if I don't get either? What if they just have the same type of weapon?" I say, thinking back to that year where the Tributes only had maces and bludgeoned each other to death.

"They won't do that again – it's not entertaining enough," Tina says, pulling away from me "Even if they don't have a knife or a bow, just take what was your best weapon in the Training Centre apart from them. You'll get past the bloodbath at the very least, then. Once you get past there, make sure you're near water, and that you have access to wood. Maybe you could make a bow if there isn't any?"

"I don't know... It's not exactly easy," I sigh, sitting back on the couch.

"Well, as long as it can shot relatively straight," Tina says, sitting next to me "A poor bow is better than no bow at all."

She was right, and there was no point in arguing with her anyway. If I had to make one, I'd eventually manage to make it shoot where I want it to go. It still wouldn't be as effective as the bows provided in the Training Centre, of course.

We sit in silence for a while, before Tina looks through her bag and hands me a small pile of food from the bakery. I look at her in confusion.

"They're from your mother's friends," She explains, looking at me "They gave them to me when they saw me walking into the Justice Building. I got you this." She pulls out a small silver ring from her pocket, and places it in my hand. "It was mine.. from when I was younger. It was my District token last year.. It only fits on my pinky now, so I don't think you'll be able to actually wear it as a ring. But.. if you could, can you have it as your token?"

I turn the ring over a few times in my hand, before smiling weakly over at Tina, hugging her tightly "Of course I will.."

She hugs me back, resting her head on my shoulder. "Thank you.."

The doors open and the Peacekeepers come in again. She stands up and walks over to the door, smiling weakly at me "I'll see you on the train."

"See you later," I mutter, waving at her.

She smiles weakly back at me, and the door slams shut again. I'm a little surprised at the gifts from my mother's old friends. They barely spoke to me or my father ever since she died. I don't know why exactly they gave me the food, but I don't think of questioning it. I'm trying to try and keep my thoughts together. I'm shocked that I haven't broken down yet.

Hearing shouting from outside the room, my brow furrows a little in confusion.

"Sir, you can't go in there, the Tributes are about to leave –"

"I don't care if they are, he's not leaving here without me saying goodbye first!"

"Sir, I have already told you -"

The door snaps open, and I instinctively jump out of my seat. My father comes running through the door and I feel my breath hitching horribly. The couple of Peacekeepers follow him and he turns around, glaring at them

"Give me two minutes. It's all I need." He says sharply.

I see the two Peacekeepers exchanging looks, before sighing.

"Fine. But only two minutes!" The shorter of the two snaps before they turn around and leave.

As soon as the door shuts behind them, my father pulls me forwards and brings me into a bone crushing hug. I bring my arms up shakily, hugging him back. I couldn't see from my eyes welling over with tears.

"You're going to win this, Kurt," He says after a few moments of silence between us. I only just manage to pull back slightly to hold his gaze "I know you will. You have that same look of determination that your mother had..when she was here. I know you don't believe me.. but you're a lot more like your mother than you think."

I don't believe him. I would've attempted to argue with him, but my voice had completely disappeared. Apart from appearance, I'm nothing like her. Almost everyone in District Eight loved her, and she was by far one of the kindest people I'd ever met. Myself on the other hand.. I'm the complete opposite. The only person apart from my father that seems to tolerate me are Tina and Mercedes. The only people that don't look down at me are all friends of my parents. Tina and Mercedes' parents don't hate me as much of the other residents from District Eight, but I know that they don't like me too much. I can't blame them. My temper's next to non-existent, and I don't like having to talk to people more than I have to, and any time I do, I'm usually just straight to the point, and leave as quickly as I can. I'm probably a let down to them.

"I want you to have this," He says, stepping away from me, and reaching into my pocket. He then places something metal in my hand, and my eyes widen as I look at it.

It was my mother's locket – the one my father bought her it on their wedding night – I'd recognize it anywhere. She'd worn it everyday until she died, and after that, my father kept in his pocket. And now.. It was being given to me.

It was at this moment that I completely break down on sobs, my body shaking with the effort of not collapsing to my knees. The Peacekeepers walk in, and I instantly cling to my father, struggling to breath.

"D-dad... I don't want to go." I breathe heavily and slowly as I cling to him, refusing to let go as the Peacekeepers try to pull me away from him.

"I'll see you in a month or two, Kurt. Everything's going to be fine," He speaks firmly, and pushes me away lightly. I look behind my shoulder, and only just catch the look of pain on his face before the door closes.

* * *

We get to the train station by wagon. I hadn't actually been on a train or a wagon before. I'd always wanted to experience it, but not under these circumstances. The wagon I'm in is quiet. Only myself, Scarlett, and Salena are inside. The past Victors are in the wagon behind us. I attempt to stop crying, but it's not working. Swallowing back a little, I decide to put the locket on, looping the ring Tina gave me around the chain.

I feel my heart stopping when I see the cameras swarmed across the train station. I cautiously step out, and I know that there was no way to hide the fact that I had been crying now, and I quickly duck my head down after catching a glimpse of myself on one of the screens. It was amazing how different my mood was compared to before, when I just looked bored with it all. I try to think of some way that this would work in my favour, before I remember a few years ago, when a girl from District Seven called Johanna Mason won. I didn't think the girl had a chance in hell because she looked so weak, and people forgot about her in the Arena. But she was a brutal killer. Hopefully, I could maybe pull the same thing off.

I don't know how Scarlett was faring, and I didn't want to look up in case one of the cameras caught my face again. I push my way forwards, refusing the cameras to get a close up of my face, and quickly step into the train before they can get any close ups. Once Scarlett, Salena, and the Victors get on board the train, it starts to move. It was amazingly fast, and it took my by surprise, despite seeing it leave the District so many times.

We have time to ourselves before we have to go for supper, and I quickly leave the group and just walk around the train as Scarlett begins to talk about maybe forming an alliance. It was out of the question. I wasn't forming an alliance at all, and the only thing that was making Scarlett come back if we were in the final two was that we're from the same District. That should surely be enough for her.

District Eight seemed so far away now.. It was only a few hours ago, I was sitting in Mercedes family's textile shop, talking to her and Tina, as we tried to push today's events to the back of our minds. We only mentioned the Games briefly after Tina's arrival, and it was to confirm that we would stick together if we were both Reaped. We talked about nothing important – mainly about a new dress that Tina had sent had sent in from the Capitol. But.. now I was getting closer and closer to the Capitol, and closer to my death. I had to wonder how that would happen.. Hopefully something quick and painless as possible. Something instantaneous would be nice. That way, I wouldn't be suffering as I die, and it would hopefully be easier on my father. He wouldn't have to see the last person in his family suffering so much before they died.

Ugh...See? This was what the Games were doing to me.

I stop walking when I find myself in some kind of sitting room. It was filled with luxurious furniture, with different kinds of seats like couches, armchairs, and recliners. There was also a large TV – one that was about half the size of the ones that were in the town centre. I look around the room and sink into an armchair, and curl up into a ball, and start sobbing harder than before, almost struggling to breathe. I close my eyes tightly and just hope to God that this was all just an elaborate nightmare, and I'd wake up in District Eight.

However, when I hear someone coming into the room, I fall silent, and try to stop my body from shaking. I didn't know who it was, but hopefully... luckily it wouldn't be another Tribute, or someone else that would be bad for me if I was caught crying.

Of course, the odds hadn't exactly been in my favour lately.

* * *

**AN: I hope this was okay! As for chapter four, I don't really know when that's going to be updated, unfortunately. If I had to guess, I'd say July sometime because that's when Dec's summer holidays start, though it could be before that.**

**As for the oneshot, and two fics, the one-shot is kind of like a missing scene from the finale? I felt that we should have probably gotten some Klaine in there after Kurt for some unknown reason didn't get into NYADA. The other two are AUs. One is supernatural, and I guess could maybe be a Vampire Diaries AU, but no VD characters appear, and the other's just a Dalton one I saw a gif set on tumblr.**


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